


One season: Spring

by raininjuly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bokuto's mood swings, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person, Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, violinist!akaashi bc i am weak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininjuly/pseuds/raininjuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi is a street musician who brightens Bokuto's gloomy days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One season: Spring

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this as a gift for [tulipon's](http://tulipon.tumblr.com/) birthday last month and i liked it quite a lot, i wanted to try something new, so i decided to translate it! 
> 
> thanks to my betas [tay](http://tanaka-san.tumblr.com/) & [zoe](http://sparky-sparky-boom-man122.tumblr.com/) for editing 
> 
> akaashi plays [the first piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRxofEmo3HA)
> 
> please enjoy

It’s cloudy. It’s cold, too cold.

You don’t feel alright. Absolutely not alright. The weather always does weird things to your mood. You are in low spirits. Everything’s gone wrong. Wrong. Like shit.

You look at the clouds and they are gray, filled with water about to fall.

You worked so hard on that project, you almost lose your soul while doing it and what for? So that the professor gives you an unfair grade. You don’t deserve this.

You just want to be home. You feel a little dizzy, your head’s spinning slightly. Why would it be? Hunger maybe? No, you had a good breakfast. You’re sleepy? Definitely, you haven’t slept well these past few weeks. You feel groggy. You feel as if you’re inside a dream.

Maybe you’re going crazy. You hear music, music? What is it? A violin? You think you hear it- but no.

You look around, put attention to your surroundings and there’s a guy, standing on the pavement, the instrument in his hands.

What’s he playing? You have no idea, but it sounds nice. You stop to listen to the guy play.

The guy has grace. The way his hands move is graceful. His movements are fluid. Quick. Precise. His hands are elegant, with long fingers. He gets the right notes out of the instrument. Or you think he does.

He’s slender, fine, delicate. It doesn’t seem strange that such a beautiful person plays such beautiful music, between such gray streets, in such a gloomy day.

The guy has his eyes shut, his brow slightly furrowed, deep in concentration. His lips a thin line.

You feel captivated. Fascinated. Hypnotized. But the spell is gone when the music ends, You blink a few times, come back to reality.

The guy opens his eyes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks at you. Piercing emerald eyes.

Your heart leaps. You smile awkwardly at him, you shove your hand inside your pocket and take out a few coins. It’s not much money.

You drop them inside the violin case and leave. Walking fast, almost running away. You feel a little nervous and think you heard the guy say a quiet ‘thank you’.

**< <<< >>>>**

This time you recognize the song. At least it seems familiar. You’ve heard it somewhere. Where? You don’t remember, but, who is the composer? Who? Their name? Foreign obviously… Vivaldi? Yeah! Vivaldi.

You get closer to where the music is coming from. There are people this time. Five people, different ages, but you notice a lady who must be in her her fifties, she’s following the beat with her head, happily. There’s another girl who is recording with her phone.

And him, he is giving all of himself. Movements almost too sharp. Frowning deeply. His eyebrows almost touching. His hair more tousled than you remembered. He’s visibly sweating with exertion. And because of the heat, because today is a bright day, with white clouds and a blue sky, the air finally smells like spring. Your mood is alright, clearly. Seeing him again, even if you don’t want to fully admit it, makes you glad.

This time it’s as if he belonged there, to that scene. Surrounded by listeners. By audience. People who appreciate what he does. His art.

You get closer, but keep your distance, because it would make you feel a little embarrassed if he recognized you. So you make sure to stay behind a tall guy.

You shove your hand inside your pocket. Nothing. the other one. Yes, there is a bill. This time you can leave an amount he deserves.

The music ends and everyone start to applaud. You join them because yeah, it was really good! You fight the urge to do something stupid like whistle or hoot.

He opens his eyes, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Glances at the people in front of him. His eyes sparkle, you can see. And he smiles. A soft, slight smile and bows.

He speaks. His voice fits him, you think. Soft, calm. He thanks everyone.

The rest of the people start to leave the money inside the case. Most of the are leaving. You must hurry, otherwise you’re going to be left alone with him and he might recognize you!

You get closer and luckily the tall guy and the girl who was recording with her phone, are talking to him. What are they talking about? Who cares! Just leave the money and get out. You do so and go your way, today calmly.

When you’re far enough, you turn your head to look behind. Is it your idea or was he looking your way? No, you must’ve imagined it. Whatever.

And that night, oh, how hard is for you to admit it, but you can’t stop thinking about that smile. The sparkle in his eyes.

You may or may not have wished to see him again. Only once again. At least once.

**< <<< >>>>**

You’re asking yourself how is it possible to rain this much in spring. Pouring. You curse the weather. Curse yourself for being so stupid not to have brought an umbrella.

Now you’re soaking and your hair’s a disaster. You feel terrible. The worst human being. You hate everyone. You’re hungry and sleepy. You feel a little like punching something or breaking something or even crying. You feel a lot of things and can’t concentrate in only one. But you endure everything, everything because you’re going to be home and can solve a few problems.

It’s one of those days when nothing goes right. You’re on your usual way and you don’t even want to see the violinist again. What do you care about the violinist right now? Why would you care about him at all in the first place? He’s simply a street musician who you saw twice. Nothing more. He isn’t relevant in your life. No.

You start to approach the place where he usually plays, and maybe you start to feel a slight, very slight desire for him to be there. But, how is he going to be there? It’s raining too much. He’d have to be crazy, yeah, completely.

Oh, but, what’s that? Yes, music. Music from the violin which is quieter, muffled by the sound of rain.

You’re about to get there, you start to see him from afar. Is he sitting? Seems like. And, the case? You don’t see it on the floor where it usually is.

You’re in front of him now. What the hell is he doing? He’s sitting on some steps, the violin case closed, beside him. the music is softer. This time you’re sure you’ve never heard it in your life.

You look at him. His eyes are closed as always. But his brow isn’t furrowed, all the contrary, his expression is peaceful, relaxed.

You realize the strangeness of the situation, so you start walking. You’re giving your back to him, but you step on a puddle without realizing and you know you attracted his attention because he calls you.

You hesitate. You know you feel bad, your hair’s a complete disaster and honestly, you don’t feel like socializing, nor talking, nor starting a conversation. Anything. But your turn around anyways not to be rude and to make sure it’s you who is he calling.

But he is already in front of you. And he is even more beautiful up close, you’re not going to lie. And well, yeah, you feel a little breathless.

He recognizes you, despite your obvious awful state. You’re the one who always passes around and leave money, he says. You feel a little embarrassed, but you say yes. He thanks you.

He stretches his hand, you take it. You can feel his hand is a little rough, calloused by practice, you suppose. His name. Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi. Keiji. You don’t want to think you’re cheesy or anything, but it may be one of the prettiest names you’ve ever heard.

You answer, you say your name. He smiles slightly, showing his teeth a little. And you don’t feel as bad, maybe you’ll be able to continue this conversation and… perhaps go home with his phone number. If the chance is given, of course. You feel refreshed and ready to flirt, if possible.

You compliment him, saying how good he plays the violin, the passion he shows when he plays. He thanks you again. And you can’t stop staring at him because he seems surreal.

You both keep talking a little and he asks you if you would like to go get a drink, it’s too cold, don’t you think? You say, of course, you’d love to, but take a taxi, it’s raining too much and none of you have an umbrella.

You hail one and get it, a little damp. Akaashi says the address. Your rational side speaks to you and asks you if this isn’t dangerous, after all you don’t know him. But then you remember how sincere he sounded when he thanked you, the sparkle in his eyes that day. No, he can’t be. If he is, which you deeply doubt, you know how to defend yourself, admittedly you’re beefy and you’re proud of it.

So you choose to consider this a victory and continue to talk pleasantly to Akaashi.

You arrive to the place, it wasn’t so far away from where you were, you’re grateful for that.

It’s a bar, seems pretty decent, you’ve been in worse places. You get in and it’s a nice place really. There’s people, but it’s not busy. You sit at a table that is empty, far from the entrance and, is that a fish tank?

You order your drinks. Talk more and Akaashi is interesting. You start to like him more already.

Your drinks arrive and you make a toast. Good alcohol, tastes good.

Akaashi has a sarcastic and dry humor that it’s hard for you to understand at the beginning, but you laugh out loud when you pick up the pace of it. His voice is sort of monotonous, but you like it, it’s soothing somehow.

You order more drinks and you start to feel a little tipsy. But you feel fine, you like this feeling of lightness.

You can’t stop staring at Akaashi’s lips when he talks. You think he’s doing the same? You don’t know well, but feel the desire to kiss him. Touch his tousled hair which looks so soft.

Another round.

It’s a little hard to talk, you’re slurring the words. Your eyelids feel slightly heavy.

What are you talking about? Ah! Yeah, school. You proudly tell him you were the captain and ace of the volleyball team. Volleyball? Akaashi played as a setter. You would’ve been an amazing dou! You’re sure, of course.

Surely Akaashi was a good setter, with such a skillful hands- you try not to think about _that_ , no because, c’mon! You’re having a decent conversation. you blame the alcohol. Alcohol always makes you hor- better go to the bathroom. Yes, it’s just that you’ve drunk plenty, won’t take long, be right back.

With slightly wobbly legs, you get into the bathroom. It’s empty. You’re in front of the sink and wash your face with cold water.

Could Akaashi be interested in you? Of course he is, why do you think he suggested to go for a drink. Well it could be because of something else.

You shake your head and look in the mirror. Your hair isn’t that bad, maybe you were exaggerating a little. Only a little. Anyhow, you comb it the best you can.

Someone enters the bathroom. You turn around and it’s Akaashi. What’s up?- suddenly, you don’t know how the hell, but he has you pressed against the wall.

All your doubts disappear.

He says something like ‘enough talking’ and just kisses you. Fervently. Shameless. His lips are as soft as you imagined. Soft gasps escape from them. His mouth is hot. Your lips smack against each other and it’s sloppy.

His hands are on your hair, gripping, on your neck, his fingers. Your hands are on his narrow hips. You can already feel your trousers starting to bother you.

Akaashi is completely pressed against you. You can feel his warmth. You can feel his heartbeat. And yours is more than quickened. And oh, it seems like Akaashi is getting excited too. You can feel him on your thigh, pressing.

You recover your common sense a little, because there’s the fact that you’re sadly in a public restroom. And even though you’d take Akaashi right there, someone can walk in on you two. Akaashi understands and he says you go to his apartment.

You leave the bar and hail a taxi. Akaashi gives the address.

In the ride he places his hand on your thigh and it can be the alcohol or the general arousal, but you feel sensitive that area. It’s difficult for you not to embarrassingly squirm on your seat under the touch.

You get to the place and honestly you don’t care about anything. You let yourself be lead.

In the lift Akaashi is all over you again. You obviously don’t mind, all the contrary. You tug at his clothes a little. Before you can go any further, you reach the floor and get out of the lift.

You enter the apartment and manage to, you don’t know how, leave your shoes in the hall. Akaashi doesn’t turn any light on, only manages to leave his violin case on the hall floor.

He leads you to his bedroom. You lie down on the bed. Akaashi is on top of you. His thighs straddling your lap. His fingers unbutton your shirt. You pull his shirt out of his trousers. You touch his skin, is warm, a little damp from the sweat, but soft. You can feel him shudder under your touch.

You suck on the tender skin of his neck, bruising and biting. Mark him. He moans beautifully, his hips thrust in response.

You’re throbbing . You want more, more friction and skin. But Akaashi yawns loudly and apologizes. You tell him it doesn’t matter, it’s fine. You feel tired and sleepy too.

Maybe another time? Yeah, sure, you could do with some sleep right now, really. He asks you if it bothers you. Not at all, as long as he lets you cuddle with him. Akaashi rolls his eyes, but nods. A sleepy smile on his lips.

You get more comfortable. Wrap your arm around his torso. Your chest against his back and he’s warm and soft. It feels nice really.

You sneak up a kiss on his ear and he shivers slightly and chuckles. He squeezes your hand.

You feel satisfied honestly. All of this may be too intimate, but- a sigh escapes your lips, it feels right.

But Akaashi owes you one.

 

**Author's Note:**

> so... yeah *hides* 
> 
> you can find me [here](http://bokuakatrash.tumblr.com/) ,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆,｡･:*:


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